


The Young Man and the Sea

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Loneliness, M/M, Past Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, Trust Issues, Water Spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 11:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: After the latest seasonal tsunami nearly kills his family, fisherman Kuroo Tetsurou ventures out into the ocean to locate the spirit that controls the water and ask them to cease his island’s torment.He finds much more than he expects to, and a promise made out of kindness sets him on a journey to free Kozume Kenma from his eternal cage.





	The Young Man and the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Kenma!!
> 
> I had to write and post this from my phone, so I apologize if I missed any typos or formatting errors!
> 
> This is my first kuroken oneshot in two years . . . I hope it’s worth the wait. :’)
> 
> ((There is an explicit scene near the end of this! To skip it, stop at “Anything he was about to say” and CTRL/Command + F to “Before he can decide”))

For as long as Kuroo can remember, his island has been set upon by tsunamis every year. It doesn’t matter how pleasant the weather is in the summer, winter, or spring. Every fall, the waves grow choppy and the sky grows dark with swirling storm clouds. The ocean churns and boils until it rises like an angry giant woken from its slumber, crashing over the small island of Taishima, devouring homes and villagers. According to legends, the village elders say, there is a god that lives in the ocean that watches over all the islands, and punishes those that do wrong. They tell everyone to pray and do good, so that next year they may be spared.

It never works. Kuroo doesn’t know if the god thing is true, but if it is, he can’t imagine that his entire village is so evil that it must be punished every year. There has to be another explanation.

He’s twenty-four when the yearly tsunami almost kills his father and grandparents. Their house is a study one, lasting many years through many storms. But everything has a breaking point, and it simply cannot hold after multiple tsunamis. It caves in, flooding the entire first floor. Thankfully, Kuroo’s family are able to get to the roof, and when Kuroo returns from selling his latest catch on the mainland, he finds them in the nearest infirmary, nursing their wounds.

Enough is enough. If there is a god responsible for this, he’s not going to stand for it anymore. He’ll go to it and demand a pardon for his island.

His family thinks he’s crazy. The village elders beg him to reconsider.

“The price to pay will be your life!” they insist.

Kuroo doesn’t care. If there’s a chance he can stop these tsunamis from destroying his village year after year, he’ll risk it. It’s too consistent to be a natural phenomenon, that much he admits. It has to be the work of something, god or monster or magician. Whatever it is, he’ll get to the bottom of it.

First, he searches through every piece of writing he can find on the tsunamis and their cause. It’s said that the god lives on its own island, out in the middle of the ocean, hidden from mortal eyes but not impossible to find. A few have made the journey in the past, and they record their travels with great detail. Upon finding the island, they searched high and low but couldn’t find a single living creature on it. 

Kuroo’s fairly certain that if a god lives there, it’s not going to make itself known to tourists. But he’s not going as a tourist. He has a specific goal, and he’s willing to do anything to reach it.

His boat isn’t much; about large enough for himself and a few friends he tends to fish with. They offer to come along, to help sail the choppy waters, to help plead his case to the god, but Kuroo refuses. He’s not entirely sure he’ll make it back, and he isn’t going to lead his friends into probable danger.

His grandmother packs him a week’s worth of bentos, kissing his forehead and begging him to be careful. He hugs her tightly and promises he’ll do his best. He shakes his grandfather’s and his father’s hands, bowing to them all and telling them he loves them.

Using the coordinates he found in the tourists’ logs, Kuroo sets off in the morning of the first day of the week. The weather isn’t perfect, but it’s not terrible either, and he manages to stay on course without much trouble.

It’s strange. He expects the island to be difficult to find, but on the evening of the third day, he runs aground. It appears out of nowhere, almost like it was waiting for him. One minute he sees nothing but ocean ahead, the next his boat scrapes against a sandbar, halting its progress. When he looks up, he sees the shoreline ahead, a few meters away.

“This can’t be it,” he mutters to himself, but when he looks at his map, he sees that there are no other islands in this area. With nothing else to do, he grabs his bag that holds the rest of his bentos, his map, some camping and fishing supplies, and a few books he read to pass the time, and jumps out of the boat. He drags it forward the rest of the way to shore, before taking in his surroundings, pushing sweaty hair back out of his face.

The island consists of mostly trees and rocks. According to the logs, it’s only 20 kilometers in circumference. It won’t take him long to walk through, probably, but he’s not sure what he’ll find. There’s no sound of any kind coming from the trees. No wildlife or insects or even the call of birds. It’s eerily quiet; the only thing he hears is the waves lapping against the sand behind him, the soft creak of his boat, as it floats and settles with each push and pull of the water. Kuroo ties it off on a nearby rock to make sure it doesn’t drift away during high tide, before hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and setting off into the trees.

“Uh, hello?” he calls experimentally as he does. His sandaled feet make hardly any noise against the underbrush, despite stepping on various leaves and twigs. It’s as though everything is muffled; a weight hovers in the air like a blanket, on the verge of suffocating him.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re real or not,” he continues, “but I need to talk to you if you are. It’s about my village. It’s on Taishima and . . .” He trails off, not sure how much information he should yell into nothing before giving this up as a wild goose chase.

A rumble from deep underground shakes the trees around him. He jumps to the side, heart pounding in his ears, as the boulder beside him shudders and then _opens_, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness. Kuroo inhales sharply. That’s definitely not a natural occurrence. Turning toward one of the trees, he searches around its base until he finds a branch large enough to use as a torch. He tears off the hem of his undershirt, beneath his hanten, wrapping it around the tip of the branch. He douses it with some oil from his bag and then lights it with a strike of his firestone against the boulder.

With the light from this, he carefully makes his way down. Thankfully, the boulder doesn’t close behind him, but it’s still unnerving to walk down this strange staircase, surrounded by walls of stone on either side, the only light the soft orange glow of his flickering torch.

He’s not sure how long he spends on this descent, but his torch has burned low by the time he reaches the end. Once he does, his feet land on soft sand. He can hear the drip of water against rock, and as he steps forward he enters a large cavern. There are large stalagmites protruding from the ground, and far, far, far up above there are stalactites dripping moisture. They hit against the stalagmites and the large body of water that extends out from about halfway into the cavern.

The water looks black in the dim light, and he approaches cautiously, as ripples appear across its surface.

His heart jumps into his throat, as a massive head breaks through the water, dark hair slick against it, behind which glow two large golden eyes. A nose and a pair of lips follow, and the humanoid creature continues to rise from the blackness. A pair of pale shoulders emerges, a flat chest large enough to hold ten men, at _least_. Kuroo stands frozen, as the creature leans forward, two arms appearing from the water to fold on the sand, as it rests its chin on them.

The eyes blink slowly, and Kuroo continues staring. He isn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t _this_. Whoever this is, they’re gigantic. A single eye is as tall as he is, and there are two of them studying him from behind long, black stringy hair. The giant waits, watching him expectantly. Kuroo has no idea what to do.

He bows deeply. “Are you—” he stops, cursing his voice as it squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Are you the god of this ocean?”

The head slowly tilts to one side, but the giant doesn’t say a word.

“I’m . . . My name is Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m a fisherman from Taishima, a small island about a three day sail from here.” He points ineffectively in the direction he thinks he came from. He has no idea where north or south is down here underground. The shadows flicker, long and ominous in the dying light of his torch. He’s not sure how much time he has left until it goes out completely, and he’ll be left blind.

“You control the ocean, right? You make the storms and the tsunamis that have been wrecking my village for as long as I can remember. I came to ask, to-to beg for you to spare us future attacks like this. I don’t know why you’re attacking us or-or what we might’ve done to deserve it, but I’m here to offer you anything I can, even my own life, to stop the tsunamis.”

He lowers to one knee and then the other. Sticking his torch into the sand deep enough for it to stand on its own, he bends forward, pressing his forehead against the ground. For a few minutes there is silence, aside from the water dripping from above, and from the giant’s face. Kuroo keeps his face pressed against the sand, waiting with shallow breaths.

“Men like you have come here before,” comes a low voice from above, softer than Kuroo anticipated. Despite this, it still reverberates throughout the cavern, making the ground tremble softly beneath him. “They didn’t try to talk to me, though. They just wanted to confirm this place existed. They came, took notes, then left.”

Kuroo can’t parse the tone in which the giant speaks. They don’t sound angry or annoyed, just stating facts. He swallows hard and keeps his position.

“It was just a legend that you existed. Nobody knew for sure.”

“They didn’t even try, though. You tried. You called out to me. For your village, I guess . . .”

Kuroo bites his lip. That sounded almost . . . disappointed. Disappointed that the men from before didn’t try to contact him? Disappointed that the only reason Kuroo is here is to save his village?

Slowly, Kuroo sits back on his heels, lifting his head to look at the giant. They’re staring off to the side, lips pursed. A hand appears, twice the size of Kuroo, reaching out toward him. As it draws near, Kuroo can see the fingers are thinly webbed, the skin glistening with red scales like a fish’s in the torchlight. The nails are long and sharp like claws, and the tip of one pokes his chest lightly.

“You feel real.”

“I am real,” Kuroo says, staying completely still.

The hand withdraws, resting atop the other arm. “I don’t make the tsunamis to _punish_ anyone. The ocean responds to my moods. I’ve gotten better at controlling it but . . .” The golden eyes flicker away, and the expression on their face flickers with something like guilt.

“You’re in a bad mood every year?”

The giant casts their gaze downward. They sink back into the water, until only their lips and above is visible. “I was born in the fall.”

Kuroo blinks. “Gods are born? I thought they just . . . existed. Like, eternally.”

The giant wrinkles their nose. “I used to be human. I died. Someone brought me back like this. I’m not a god. More like a . . . spirit. A guardian. The ocean responds to me, and I take care of it and the creatures that live in it. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t know why they picked me. Now I live here . . .”

The golden eyes roam around the cavern before settling their gaze onto Kuroo once more. “Sorry about your village, but I don’t know how to stop the tsunamis from happening.”

Kuroo scratches the back of his head. “Well, if they happen because you’re in a bad mood in the fall, then maybe there’s a way to make it so you’re not so miserable every year.”

The ocean spirit sighs, and the gust of warm wind from its mouth almost knocks Kuroo over. The torchlight flickers, nearly snuffing out completely. Kuroo cups his hands around it quickly until it settles.

“I’ve tried. Nothing works.”

“You don’t have any friends or anything? What about other spirits?”

The ocean spirit shakes their head. “I’ve never met any other spirits. I guess they exist, taking care of other oceans, the sky, the earth, stuff like that. But they don’t come here. Nobody comes here.”

“I came here,” Kuroo says with a faint smirk. “Maybe I can help.”

The spirit regards him skeptically.

Kuroo lifts his hands to the side. “I could come visit you. Every fall. I don’t know how great company I’ll be, but . . . you’re lonely, right? You sounded disappointed when you talked about the others not calling out to you or trying to find you. You’re stuck in this place all alone; there aren’t even any animals on the island, huh? And I bet the ocean life isn’t very talkative.”

The golden eyes blink slowly.

“I can talk to you. I’ll stay the whole season if you want me to. I won’t let you be alone on your birthday.” It’s stupid, probably. Kuroo doesn’t even know if spirits like this enjoy eating humans. There are a lot of things to consider, with an offer like this. He’ll have to find some way to make a shelter, here. He has his boat and fishing gear, so food won’t be a problem. He has no idea if any of the trees outside bear fruit, but he could check. It’s not an impossible thing to do.

“Don’t you have family? You wouldn’t be here asking me to stop the tsunamis if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I have a father and his parents. But, you know, I’m an adult. If I want to live with a gigantic ocean spirit a few months out of the year, I can.” He grins, glad his voice sounds more confident than he feels. He has no idea if this will work. There’s no way he can be enough for this spirit. He doesn’t have any special talents or interesting stories to tell them. He could probably make some up, but will _that_ be enough?

But he has to try, because his family deserves to live without fear, and this spirit deserves a friend, probably. They haven’t attacked him or eaten him or said anything bad, so they can’t be evil at least.

Kuroo pulls his legs out from under him to sit cross-legged. “What’s your name?” he asks, thinking he can start there.

The eyes blink at him again. “I . . .” They falter, frowning faintly as though in deep thought. “They called me Kenma, when I was human. Kozume Kenma.”

Kuroo grins. “Nice to meet you, Kenma! How long have you been an ocean spirit?”

“A few hundred years.”

Kuroo whistles. “No wonder you’re so moody. That’s a long time to be alone.”

Kenma’s arms lift from the water to fold on the shore once more, and they set their chin lightly on them.

“I’m twenty-four,” Kuroo offers. “Father keeps asking me when I’ll get married, but I’ve never found anyone that appeals to me in that way, you know? I mean, there are a ton of pretty girls in my village, and guys, but . . . I don’t know. I’ve always been so focused on fishing and taking care of my family. Did you ever marry in your human life?”

Kenma shakes their head. “I died when I was twenty.”

“Wow, young.” Kuroo chews on his lip. “Do you . . . mind if I ask how you died?”

Kenma glances away. “Drowned.”

Kuroo frowns. “And they made you an ocean spirit? That sounds kind of cruelly ironic.”

The massive shoulders shrug.

“Is that when you got all big, too? When they made you a spirit?”

Kenma blinks. “Oh. I don’t have to be. Just habit, I guess. It keeps sharks and things away.”

Kuroo watches, dumbstruck, as Kenma slips back into the water, shrinking. They disappear completely, and the water ripples. Then a pair of thin arms reach out, grabbing fistfuls of sand in their slender hands, nails still sharp, as Kenma pulls their body out of the water and onto shore. Below their torso is a long tail, covered in shimmery red scales. Kuroo stares, unable to completely comprehend what he’s seeing.

Kenma’s back arches, and their face crumples into a grimace, revealing rows of pointed teeth, as the scales begin to fall away, dropping like rubies one after the other into the sand. There’s a horrible ripping sound, as a knee pushes through the skin of the tail, and then a foot. Kenma squirms and wriggles beside the water, until the tail falls away completely, revealing two human legs and male genitals. Kenma collapses, then, breathing hard.

Kuroo’s on his feet before he fully realizes what he’s doing, shedding his hanten to place it over Kenma’s waist. Kenma’s eyes flutter open, still that piercing gold. Long black hair falls past their hips, sticking to their smooth skin. Kuroo reaches out hesitantly, gently brushing the wet strands from their face.

“That looked painful,” he admits.

“The size changing doesn’t feel like anything,” Kenma says softly, eyes falling closed once more. “I figured they gave me a tail and webbed hands so I’d be able to swim easily. I don’t think I’m supposed to go back on land.”

“You didn’t have to for my sake,” Kuroo says apologetically, guilt stinging his chest.

A small smile flickers over Kenma’s face. “I wanted to. I . . . forgot what it’s like to be human. It’s . . . kinda nice.”

Kuroo helps them sit up, adjusting the hanten over their lap so it doesn’t slip off. He clears his throat, feeling a flush warm his cheeks. “So, uh, when you were human, you were . . .”

Kenma follows Kuroo’s gaze then snorts softly. “Yes, I was male. Still am, I guess . . . Spirits don’t really have genders, I don’t think, but this is what I was before so.” He shrugs. “I’m the most comfortable with it.”

Kuroo nods quickly. “Right, yeah, makes sense.”

Kenma pushes against his shoulder, making to stand. His legs wobble, and Kuroo catches him around the waist before he can fall. In the fading light from the torch, he thinks he sees Kenma’s face flush, but then the flame on his torch dies, and everything grows pitch black.

“Ah, shit.”

“Oh. I guess you can’t see in the dark.”

“Can _you_?”

“Yeah.”

Kuroo huffs, releasing Kenma and feeling his way back in the direction he thinks he left the torch. It takes a few minutes, but then his hand finds it.

“Wait.”

Kenma’s voice draws his attention. He pauses, glancing behind him reflexively though he still can’t see anything. But he waits, wondering why, when slowly Kenma’s face comes into view. His pale skin glows almost blue, and Kuroo glances around to see where the light is coming from.

Kenma snickers at his confusion, before pointing up. “Look.”

Kuroo lifts his gaze, tilting his head back. Across the ceiling of the cavern, surrounding the stalactites, are thousands, no surely millions, of bioluminescent plant-life, like moss or mold. They glow brighter and brighter, extending along the length of the entire cavern and down the sides of the walls. It’s like a galaxy of stars beneath the ground, and the beauty of it takes Kuroo’s breath away.

He glances over at Kenma, then, his profile in view now. He’s put the hanten on, and it falls to his thighs like a short robe. His face is tilted back, long black hair falling down to his thighs, and there’s a small smile curving his lips, golden eyes sparkling, as they reflect the blue-green lights above.

Kuroo’s chest aches suddenly in a way that’s wholly unfamiliar to him. He’s noticed attractive people before, of course, but there’s something different about Kenma. It’s not just that he’s attractive, there’s a quality to his features that’s otherworldly, ethereal, and it draws Kuroo in like a moth to a flame. He wants to know that face, he realizes. This spirit is as mysterious as the ocean he watches over, and Kuroo wants to _know_ him.

Kenma lowers his head, turning it to look at Kuroo, meeting his gaze. Kuroo starts, feeling heat rising to his cheeks at being caught. Kenma moves toward him, bare feet silent against the soft sand. Kuroo remains frozen, watching, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, his ears. Kenma stops just in front of him, tilting his head back to continue looking at Kuroo’s face.

“You’ll really stay?” His voice is suddenly small, minuscule in this vast space. He doesn’t look like a god, now. He’s just a boy. A young man. Twenty years old. Small. Vulnerable.

Kuroo doesn’t doubt that Kenma can still destroy him with a single thought, cause the entire underground cave to collapse in on itself with the weight of the ocean. But in this moment, right here, Kuroo feels the urge to protect him.

He died alone, helpless beneath the cruel waves that cared not about his probable terror. Then he was made a spirit to command those very waves, but kept apart. He’s different, now. Other. Men fear him. Spirits apparently don’t bother with him. Kuroo feels irritated for Kenma’s sake. What kind of person saves another only to abandon them immediately after?

And Kenma has spent hundreds of years like this. No wonder he gets moody around his birthday. Kuroo’s surprised he isn’t moody during the other seasons, as well.

Lifting his hand, he brushes a strand of long hair behind Kenma’s ear.

“Yeah,” he says with a nod, giving Kenma a crooked smile. “I’ll stay.”

And he does. With Kenma’s help, he builds shelter above ground: a small hut made from trees and vines and seaweed. Kenma causes a slight rain shower so Kuroo can collect fresh water, and he cooks fish for them on a bonfire on the beach. As they eat he tells Kenma stories of his island, of the mainland. Due to living underwater and underground for the past few centuries, Kenma’s completely out of the loop with what’s happened to humans since he died. Kuroo fills him in as best he can, feeling somewhat like a history teacher but doing his best to make it sound interesting, at least. He puts a lot of effort into his theatrics, though Kenma’s more prone to laugh _at_ him than _with_ him. That’s fine by Kuroo, though. He likes Kenma’s laugh.

Days go by the same way. Kenma enters his hut without knocking, waking him, and together they head out to walk through the trees, through the caverns underground, and around the circumference of the island. Kenma listens as Kuroo talks, sometimes interjecting with a question but most of the time seeming content to just walk silently beside him, eyes on the ground or on the scenery around them.

Kuroo starts to feel rather crusty a few weeks in, and after Kenma agrees he’s starting to smell pretty ripe (“Rude, but fair,” Kuroo allows, as Kenma snickers), he helps Kuroo make a small pond, using wood and stone to line the walls of a hole, before using a storm to fill it. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to make soap but Kuroo still feels better after bathing and scraping away dirt and sweat with a sea sponge. Kenma sits on a nearby boulder and watches him, which makes Kuroo rather self-conscious, but he gets back at him by grabbing his ankle and yanking him into the water beside him.

Kenma yelps, splashing Kuroo hard in the face, but Kuroo just laughs and works on getting the tangles out of Kenma’s long hair. The water comes up to Kuroo’s waist when he’s standing, which means it comes to Kenma’s chest, so there’s no worry about going under. Still, Kenma stands with his arms crossed, pouting, as Kuroo gently runs his fingers through the dark strands. Once it’s detangled, he braids it to keep it neat, setting it over Kenma’s shoulder when he’s done.

“See? That’s not so bad,” he says with a smile.

Kenma picks up the braid, frowning at it before dropping it back on his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Kuroo ruffles his own hair. “Mine’s getting pretty shaggy,” he laments, wishing he had a pair of his grandmother’s scissors to trim it.

Kenma turns to face him, reaching up to tug experimentally on Kuroo’s hair.

“Ow, hey, watch it!” he laughs.

Kenma purses his lips, continuing to push his fingers through Kuroo’s hair, fluffing it up before patting it down, brushing it away from his face. Kuroo swallows hard, trying not to enjoy the feeling too much. With both eyes uncovered, he can see the flecks of brown in Kenma’s golden eyes much clearer, and he feels his neck and ears warming at their proximity.

Kenma stares at him for a long moment, not saying a word. Then he pulls all of Kuroo’s hair forward, until it’s completely covering his face.

“That’s better,” he says with finality.

“What the fuck?” Kuroo laughs, pushing his hair back to see again. Kenma’s gone, though, already out of the bath and walking toward the beach. Kuroo hops out and uses the water to rinse out his clothes, laying them out on the boulder to dry, before laying back in the soft grass and closing his eyes.

He knows his father and grandparents must be worried about him. He wonders if they think he’s dead yet. He’s been gone nearly a month now, but they hadn’t known how long it’d take him to find the island. He wishes he could send them a message somehow.

The thought nags at him the rest of the day, until he brings it up to Kenma over dinner.

“Hey, so . . . my family has no idea if I’m even alive right now,” he says, biting his lip as he stares into the flames of the fire.

Kenma tears into his fish without comment.

“So . . . I was thinking, I should probably go back home to let them know. And get, like, actual supplies and stuff. If I’m going to live here for another couple months, I’m going to need more than what I brought with me. I could bring you some stuff too, if you want . . .” He trails off, realizing Kenma’s _glaring_ at him. “What?”

“You want to leave.”

“Yeah, but only to let my family know that I’m okay! I’ll come back. I promise.”

Kenma narrows his eyes at him, and Kuroo realizes they don’t know each other well enough to know whether or not either of them are a man of his word. He presses his hand against his heart, leaning forward to look at Kenma earnestly.

“Kenma, I _promise_, it’s just to give them an update and get more supplies. I’ll be back. I’ll even bring you some more books. Ones like the one I had with me. You liked those, right? I can get you more.”

Kenma turns his face toward the ground. His hair has slowly been slipping from the braid during the day, and a strand falls forward, hiding one of his eyes from Kuroo. His fingers itch to reach over and brush it back, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll come back,” Kuroo says softly, inching closer to him on the sand.

Kenma curls inward, jaw clenched tightly. When he lifts his gaze, there’s fire behind his eyes. Kuroo freezes.

“If you don’t, I won’t spare your village.”

Kuroo swallows hard. “You don’t have to threaten me,” he says softly, knowing Kenma’s just lashing out from fear. “I like spending time with you. I like being here with you. I just need to get a few things to make it easier, and let my father and grandparents know I’m okay.”

Kenma looks away. “Fine,” he says tightly. “Go.”

Kuroo can feel the anger radiating off him. He wishes he knew what to say or do to make it clear to Kenma that he has no intention on going back on his promise.

“It took me three days to get here, so I’ll be back before the week is up,” he says gently.

Kenma stands and begins wandering off toward the trees. Kuroo watches him go, his chest clenching around his heart.

“I don’t break my promises, Kenma!” he calls after him. “I’ll be back, I swear!”

Kenma fades into the darkness of the jungle without a glance behind.

Kuroo sighs, brushing his hand through his hair with a grunt of frustration. Guessing there isn’t a point in sticking around, he puts out the fire, grabs the remainder of the fish and his canteen of water, and makes his way to where his boat is still tied to the boulder by the shoreline.

The ocean is surprisingly calm, as he makes his way back to Taishima. He wonders if, even in Kenma’s anger, he doesn’t want to hurt him. It’s a nice thought, though probably wishful thinking. He seemed pretty mad.

When he pulls into the dock, the fishermen there look at him in surprise. They exclaim over his appearance as though he’s returned from the dead. Kuroo feels rather sheepish in the face of all the joy and relief, enduring the various hugs and pats on the back and shouts of welcome. He manages to detach himself from the group, making his way inland toward home.

It feels almost surreal to be back in the hustle and bustle of the village, after the quiet serenity of Kenma’s island. It’s almost _too_ loud, too crowded. He sidesteps people and carts in the street, bowing and muttering apologies, avoiding eye-contact with anyone he recognizes, not wanting to get stuck in another welcoming committee.

His father and grandparents hug him tightly when he gets home. He relaxes into each of their embraces, grinning as his grandmother despairs over the state of his hair. His father and grandfather pester him with questions, but all Kuroo confirms is the existence of the ocean spirit.

“I have to go back,” he tells them, and he hates the way their expressions fall in dismay. “I promised I’d stay the entire season. I’ll be back for winter, and then through the rest of the year until next fall. Then I have to go back again.”

“For how long must you do this?” his father asks, dark eyes sharp as they study his son.

Kuroo grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, forever?”

They all stare at him, stunned. He holds his hands out to the side with a placating smile. “It’s only three months out of the year. It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay. I won’t be alone, and the spirit isn’t bad. I never felt in danger, while I was there.”

They look skeptical, but then his grandmother excuses herself to pack him some food, pulling out an entire bag of rice for him to take. His grandfather goes into his study, grabbing all of Kuroo’s favorite books. Kuroo and his father go upstairs to pack more clothes (and soap, lots of soap).

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, son?” his father asks softly. “You won’t be able to have a family if you do this. What wife will tolerate her husband leaving her and the kids for three months every year?”

Kuroo winces inwardly. “You know I’ve never wanted a wife, father,” he says uncomfortably.

His father sighs. “I’d hoped that was just a phase,” he admits softly.

“It’s not.” Kuroo places three bars of soap on top of his clothes in the bag, turning to face his father, then. “I’ll be okay. I promise. This spirit . . . they’re lonely. They don’t have anyone out there. That’s why there’s been tsunamis every year. They’re miserable. But I can change that. I can help both the spirit _and_ the village. I can help _you_, and Grandmother and Grandfather. The cost isn’t too great. I want to do it.”

His father nods, a small smile tilting his lips. “I fear for you, that you will regret this path, but I’m also proud of you. You are a good man, Tetsurou.”

“You raised me to be one,” Kuroo says, stepping forward to hug his father. The man returns it firmly.

He stays for dinner, he gives his grandmother that much. She insists she cut his hair before he goes, so he endures that, as well. He gives them all goodbye kisses and hugs, promising once more to be back by winter. Then, he returns to the docks, bag of rice and other provisions, books, clothes, and soap in hand. The ocean once more takes him gently to the island, carrying him with a swift wind and shaving off nearly a full day of travel.

When he arrives, Kuroo drags the boat up on shore and ties it off in the same place as before. He goes first to his hut to drop off his things, before racing as fast as he can to the entrance of Kenma’s cave.

“Kenma? Kenma! I’m back!”

He stumbles down the steps in the dark until he reaches the cavern, lit from above by the glowing moss. Looking around the space, he sees no sign of the ocean spirit. His heart sinks in his chest. Is Kenma still angry with him? Even though he returned as he said?

Then the water ripples, and Kenma’s massive form emerges. He towers over Kuroo, glaring down at him from behind his long hair. Kuroo holds his arms out to the side, grinning despite the anxiety curling tightly through his stomach and up around his ribs. Will Kenma let him stay? Or will he send him away, too hurt from Kuroo’s leaving in the first place to forgive him?

“I’m back,” he says, meeting Kenma’s intimidating gaze.

A large hand reaches forward, webbed fingers wrapping around Kuroo. He yelps softly, as it picks him up, lifting him in the air to come face-to-face with Kenma, or rather Kenma’s nose, since the face takes up the entirety of his vision when placed directly in front of it. Kuroo doesn’t resist the grasp, simply holds as tightly as he can. Kenma squints at him, huge eyes narrowing into golden slits.

“I’m really here,” Kuroo says, wondering if Kenma thinks he’s dreaming or something, like he had when they first met. “It’s really me, I promise.”

Kenma huffs, warm wind pushing back Kuroo’s shorter hair. Then, he’s being lowered to the ground. It takes him a moment to regain his balance, and in that time, Kenma shrinks to his human size and crawls up onto land like before. Also, like before, Kuroo rushes forward, taking off his hanten to give to him. Kenma takes it, pulling it on and tying it off before regarding him skeptically.

“You really did come back,” he says.

“I promised you I would,” Kuroo reminds him gently, his heart swelling now that he knows Kenma’s not going to eat him.

Kenma turns his face away, trying to hide his expression, but Kuroo reaches out and pushes back his hair, catching a glimpse of the pleased look. Kenma quickly adjusts his features to a passive one, but Kuroo grins, knowing what he saw.

“You’re happy to see me,” he says.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

Kuroo laughs, and in a sudden burst of courage, he picks Kenma up in a hug, twirling him around. Kenma yells in surprise, fingers gripping Kuroo’s shoulders, sharp nails digging through his undershirt into his skin. He doesn’t care, though. He continues to spin, laughing, even as Kenma shouts at him to put him down. He can hear the smile in Kenma’s voice, no matter how he tries to hide it, and it makes Kuroo happy.

Finally, he stops spinning and places Kenma back on his feet. Instead of letting him go, though, he holds him close, burying his nose in his hair, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the ocean. Kenma stiffens in the embrace, but after Kuroo doesn’t release him, he slowly brings his arms up to wrap around Kuroo’s waist, pressing his damp face into his chest.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Kuroo murmurs, grinning against Kenma’s scalp.

“Stupid,” Kenma mutters, but he doesn’t step away.

Kuroo pulls back first, grabbing Kenma’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you the books I brought!”

He leads Kenma out of the cave and back to his hut. He pulls the books out one by one, explaining each plot briefly as Kenma leafs through them, eyes gleaming with interest. He shows him the soap next, to which Kenma wrinkles his nose, but Kuroo insists it’s for the best. Then he gets out the rice and various spices and vegetables his grandmother insisted he bring. These Kenma approves of easily, and he makes Kuroo fix a meal for them right away.

It’s an incredible improvement over the plain fish they’ve had so far, and the rice makes it much more filling, as well. Stuffed, Kuroo lies down against the sand, folding his arms behind his head, as he stares up at the stars. He listens to Kenma suck the fish juice from his fingers then feels the sand shift, as he moves to lay down beside him.

“You know, I never thought to ask,” Kuroo says after a moment. “Do you _have_ to stay on this island? As an ocean spirit, couldn’t you go anywhere as long as you’re by the ocean?”

Kenma doesn’t reply for a long moment. “They put me here,” he says softly. “I’ve been able to go a few kilometers from here, but then I get this . . . sick feeling in my stomach and stop. I don’t know what would happen if I try to go further.”

Kuroo ponders that. Is he truly stuck here? If he tries to leave the immediate vicinity of this island, will he revert back into a human? A dead human? Kuroo doesn’t like that thought.

“Do you know who put you here? Have you ever seen them?”

“No.”

Kuroo sits up, turning to look down at Kenma, who blinks up at him, frowning faintly. “What?”

“What if we try to find them?” Kuroo asks, his heartbeat quickening. “What if we send them a message somehow and ask what exactly they need from you? What the rules are, exactly?”

“You think I haven’t tried that?” Kenma asks, turning his face away.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, poking his side.

Kenma glances back at him with an irritable look. “What?”

“You didn’t have me, before,” Kuroo says with a grin. “You can take me as far as you know you’re able to go in the ocean, and then let me go further. There has to be another spirit guarding the ocean beyond your territory, right? Otherwise you’d be in charge of the entire ocean and that’s too big, even for you. So I’ll find _their_ island and see if they know anything.”

Kenma sits up slowly, staring at him. “You have no idea where the other spirit’s island is, though. You could end up lost in the middle of the ocean. You could _die_ out there.”

Kuroo stares back at him. “Maybe,” he agrees. “But maybe not. If we can free you, Kenma . . . Taishima is only three days from here. That can’t be beyond a reasonable distance from your territory. If you can live on land, with other people, with _me_ . . . you won’t have to be alone nine months out of the year. You won’t have to be alone ever again.”

Kenma continues staring, his large eyes growing impossibly wide. “You . . . would risk your life to do that for me?”

Kuroo nods, surprising himself with how easy it is to answer. “Yeah, I would. I care about you, Kenma.”

“You don’t even _know_ me.” Kenma sounds distressed, now, getting to his feet. He frowns down at Kuroo, like he can’t believe he would do something so stupid for him. He seems almost angry about it.

“I’d like to, though,” Kuroo admits, looking up at Kenma and not moving from his seat. “I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with only three months out of the year getting to know you, either. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want more. You’re . . . fascinating and beautiful, and I would happily spend years pulling back layer after layer of the wall you’ve surrounded yourself with. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’d be worth it.”

Kenma stares at him with incredulity. “You’re crazy,” he says flatly.

Kuroo shrugs. “Probably,” he admits with a grin. “All I know is, I’ve never been interested in anyone the way I am in you. I’ve never been drawn to anyone like I’m drawn to you. So yeah, I’ll risk dying in the middle of the ocean to make sure you get to live the life you want, and maybe find a place for me in that life too.”

Kenma studies him for a long time, no doubt looking for the lie, not believing Kuroo’s sincerity. He reaches forward with both hands, pushing Kuroo’s hair back from his face so he can see the entirety of it. He bends down, then, pressing his lips against Kuroo’s with a sense of urgency that surprises him.

Kuroo’s been kissed before, but never like this. He responds in kind, though, wrapping both arms around Kenma’s waist and pulling him down into his chest, kissing him back with a longing moan. He feels the scrape of sharp teeth against his lower lip, and when he gasps, a warm, wet tongue enters his mouth, tasting of fish and salt water. Kuroo curls his fingers into his own hanten that Kenma wears, licking his tongue back against Kenma’s, as a shudder runs down his spine.

He pulls back only to breathe, and he only gets a few breaths in before Kenma’s delving back into his mouth, pushing against him so hard, he topples backwards into the sand with a soft “oof.” Kenma’s tongue is bold and insistent, pressing against the walls of his mouth, running along his teeth and the inside of his lips, his teeth are just as aggressive, biting into his lower lip until Kuroo winces in pain, blood spilling into his mouth. Kenma licks and sucks it away, moaning softly. He shifts on top of Kuroo so that he’s straddling his hips, and his lips pull away to kiss and suck at Kuroo’s jaw, then his neck and down to his shoulder, tugging at the collar of his undershirt to reach it.

Kuroo pants heavily, staring up at the cloudless sky and wondering if this is truly happening. He’s thought about it before, of course, but he never thought to cross that line, thinking they probably needed more time to get to know each other. Or, at least, he needed more time to get to know Kenma. He realizes he’s told Kenma nearly everything about himself, but he still knows nothing of Kenma, aside from the fact that he drown and then became an ocean spirit somehow.

“Kenma, ha. Kenma.” He tries to make it sound like a protest, but he doesn’t do a very good job of it, as his blood boils beneath his skin, and Kenma’s pushed up his shirt, his tongue and teeth landing on his nipple. He arches into the touch with a hiss, trying to convince himself it’s better to wait, to make sure Kenma really is someone he wants to share himself with in this way.

“Kenma, _stop_,” he manages to gasp out after a moment.

Kenma freezes. Slowly, he leans back, blinking down at Kuroo in confusion.

“You want this,” he states matter-a-factly. His hand reaches down between them, pressing against the obvious bulge in Kuroo’s pants.

Kuroo grimaces as the tingle of pleasure that sparks through him. “Yeah, I do. I mean, obviously, but . . . I-I don’t think we should. Not yet.”

Kenma blinks down at him, uncomprehending.

“I just . . .” Kuroo swallows hard. “You were right, before. I don’t know you.”

Kenma slowly sits back on Kuroo’s thighs, his expression shuttering. “I see.”

Kuroo sighs, sitting up slowly, rolling his shirt down before resting his hands on Kenma’s waist. “I know you’ve been alone a long time, and I know you might be scared to open yourself up to a human like me who could leave or die or hurt you in some way. But I can promise that I’ll do my best not to do any of those things. I’m not perfect, but I try to be a good person. I’d like you to trust me. I’m not going to rush you, but I also don’t want to rush this.” He gestures between them. “Because something like this means something to me . . . do you understand?”

Kenma stares down at his stomach, avoiding eye-contact. He nods and inhales slowly, his chest shuddering. His long hair falls forward, shielding his face. Kuroo brushes it back gently, tucking it behind his ear before leaning forward to kiss his cheek lightly.

Kuroo expects Kenma to move off of him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to speak, quietly, eyes never leaving Kuroo’s chest.

“I grew up on the mainland. My parents . . . they loved me, but we were poor and they both had to work. I spent a lot of time at home, reading, taking care of our chickens and the stray cat that lived in our neighborhood. I didn’t have many friends. Whenever I would play with them . . . I was kind of bossy, I guess. I wanted to play with them, but they didn’t want to listen to me, because I was small and they were usually bigger and older. It was annoying. They acted like because they were older and bigger, _they_ should always be in charge and push everyone else around.” Kenma wrinkles his nose.

Kuroo can’t help but chuckle softly, imagining a tiny Kenma, trying to organize a game, with his small mouth pouting, his soft voice scolding. The Kenma in his lap now lifts his gaze in a withering look. Kuroo holds up his hands defensively.

“I’m not laughing about the bullies. That was pretty shitty of them. But imagining you as a little kid is pretty cute.” He grins, and Kenma rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I stopped trying to play with them after a while, because they’d always just knock me down and do their own thing anyway. I went back to my books and the chickens and cat . . . as I got older I thought maybe I should do something with my life, but I didn’t know what. I was kinda . . . aimless, I guess. I started working for a local farmer, but I hated doing so much work. It was always too hot, and I got so tired. Eventually I slacked off so much he fired me. My parents weren’t very happy about it, but my dad suggested I try getting a job in town, maybe as an apprentice to someone. I finally found a bookkeeper who needed help stocking shelves and stuff. It was still tiring, but at least I was out of the sun, and he let me take home whatever books I wanted so long as I brought them back when I was done.”

His face takes on a faraway expression, somewhat wistful, staring off past Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo waits patiently, as Kenma stares and seems to steel himself for whatever comes next. Kuroo rests his hands back on Kenma’s waist, one hand moving down to the soft, warm skin of his thigh, stroking it gently with his thumb. Kenma shivers and looks down at the hand, but doesn’t tell him to stop or pull it away.

“I think I was happy, for a while . . . nothing really happened, so those years kind of blur together. Then there was guy . . . he kept coming into the store every day, asking about the books but never buying any. Eventually I thought . . . maybe he liked me. I never really thought about that sort of thing before, but then I started thinking . . . if this guy came up to me and asked to kiss me or if I’d go home with him, I’d say yes.” Kenma frowns. “It was stupid. _I_ was stupid.”

Kuroo finds himself matching Kenma’s frown. “Hey, that’s not—”

Kenma looks up again, silencing him with a glare. “It was. One day he asked me to meet him by the pier. He said he wanted to give me something for my birthday. When I got there, some of the bullies from my childhood were there instead. They said it was a joke. That they hired the guy to flirt with me and bring me out there to humiliate me. They were all laughing and laughing . . . saying I was an idiot and how could someone like that guy like someone like me, who was poor and weak and stupid. I was so angry . . . I swung at the closest guy as hard as I could. I landed a pretty good punch, but there was more of them, and I _was_ weak. It was kind of an accident, what happened. I fell, and knocked my head against one of the pillars that held up the pier. I fell in the water, and I guess I drowned. I lived so far inland, I didn’t know how to swim. I don’t know if they tried to save me, but the next thing I knew, I was here, and I was half-fish and huge and could breathe underwater and control the ocean. I tried to swim away but, you know. Once I realized I was trapped here, I thought I must’ve been put here for a reason. I figured it was to guard this section of the ocean. So I did. I have.”

Kuroo’s frown doesn’t relax during the rest of the story, or as Kenma ends it, staring off once more, this time toward the waves pushing and pulling the ocean water against the sand. Kuroo lifts his hand, taking Kenma’s chin to tug his face back towards his, meeting his gaze.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he says softly, genuinely. His chest aches for human Kenma, about how much it must have hurt to find out someone who’d been kind wasn’t truly kind at all. Kuroo has no idea how someone can do something like that to another person. It’s cruel and unnecessary, and he kind of wishes he could go back in time and beat up those bullies himself.

Kenma shrugs. “It was a long time ago,” he says in a way that implies he’s over it.

“Still,” Kuroo insists. “It was a shitty thing for them to do, and you didn’t deserve it.”

Kenma stares back at him. “It’s not like I was a good person or anything,” he says.

Kuroo shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter! You weren’t bad either, and besides, good or bad, nobody deserves to be treated like they’re unlovable. I promise you that you’re not, okay? You’re not unlovable or unwanted or weak or stupid or any of that shit.” He takes Kenma’s face between his hands. “You’ve endured centuries of loneliness, taken care of the ocean and its creatures even though you had no idea if you’d be rewarded for it or not. You’re incredible and strong and beautiful, and I feel lucky to have met you.”

Kenma’s eyes have grown wet, as he purses his lips and watches Kuroo rant. He lowers his gaze, then, sharp teeth pulling at his lower lip.

“You’re very strange,” he says after a moment.

Kuroo laughs. “Why? Because I believe in kindness? It’s not that foreign a concept for most people. I’m always this kind.” He grins.

Kenma just shakes his head, a small smile playing about his lips. He lifts his eyes again. “You really want to free me? I might not revert back to a human. I might still be like this, be immortal.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “This isn’t about me. I mean, on some level it is, but mostly this is about you. I want to do this for you, Kenma, because you deserve it.” He grins. “And because I really, really want to introduce you to my parents.”

Kenma cheeks grow dark, though he tries to hide it by pulling his hair out from behind his ear. Kuroo just smiles and lets him.

He spends a few days trying to ascertain what the best route is for his search. Kenma admits that periodically there are massive storms to the west of the island, brought on suddenly and disappearing just as quickly. Kuroo figures that must be the location of another spirit and draws a path on his map. It appears to be in uncharted territory, which just lends further to his theory. He isn’t sure if the next spirit over will be any different from Kenma. They might be someone randomly selected and randomly placed, with no knowledge of why or how.

But if there’s a chance they _do_ know more, Kuroo wants to take it.

He gathers up as many supplies as he can safely carry in his boat, and Kenma watches him warily.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he says, as Kuroo begins to untie his boat from the boulder. “I won’t be able to protect you past the barrier.”

“Hey, I managed to find you without issue, didn’t I?”

Kenma’s lips tighten. “I knew you were coming, though, and I was curious to know if you were different from the others. That spirit might not like you getting close to it. It might see you as a threat or something to eat.”

Kuroo laughs. “I doubt humans taste very good. We’re probably super crunchy.”

Kenma looks at him with exasperation. “_Kuro_,” he says, shortening his name in a clipped, annoyed tone.

Kuroo just grins, his chest warming at the fact Kenma’s given him a nickname. “I’ll do my best to seem as unassuming and unappetizing as possible,” he says, bending to kiss Kenma’s forehead.

“You won’t have to try very hard,” Kenma mutters.

Kuroo just shakes his head at him. “Once you’re back in your spirit form, tie this around your finger, so I don’t drift off-course. Then when we reach the barrier, unbind it so I can go on ahead.” He hands Kenma the end of the rope attached to his boat.

Kenma stares down at it. Kuroo doesn’t wait for him to try protesting again. He pushes the boat out into the water, hopping into it as soon as he can. He hears a splash, and the boat rocks, as Kenma dives beneath the water. The rope grows taut after a moment, and he catches himself on his seat, nearly falling over, as the boat skims across the water at high speed.

It’s just after sunrise, the changing colors of the sky casting dancing lights upon the water. Glancing over the side of the boat, Kuroo can see the massive form of Kenma close beneath the surface. He’s at least twice the size of the boat, tail long and covered with glittering red scales that fade into his hips and back. Kuroo can’t look away. Kenma’s spirit form had been beautiful in the dim torchlight, but he’d been small, then, and shedding the tail without grace. Here, he moves through the water as easily as any other ocean creature, majestic and sure, truly a wondrous sight to behold. It’s breathtaking.

Much too soon, the boat stops. Kuroo keeps his balance as it rocks back and forth, the water disturbed by Kenma’s head and shoulders pushing through the surface. He drops the water-logged rope into the bottom of the boat, and Kuroo can see a pulsing red light emanating from his chest beneath the water. He points to it.

“Did you know you did that?” he calls up to Kenma.

Kenma glances down at his chest before nodding. “It appears when I get too close to the barrier,” he admits. “Like a warning signal. I feel nauseous. I can’t go any further.”

Kuroo nods. This is it, then. He must go forward alone.

Before Kenma can sink beneath the waves, again, he calls out, reaching. Kenma pauses, before leaning toward him, his face filling Kuroo’s vision until he blocks out the sky completely. Kuroo sets his hand on Kenma’s lower lip, moving to kiss it. The size difference is ridiculous, and he feels kind of silly for doing it, but Kenma smiles, just slightly, so the absurdity is worth it.

“Make sure you come back,” he says, voice, though soft, reverberating through Kuroo’s body like thunder.

“I will,” he promises, holding his breath, then, as Kenma backs away and disappears underwater.

Facing his destination, Kuroo steels himself with a deep inhale, before releasing his sail and sitting down beside the rudder, as the wind pushes him west.

Four days pass. Kuroo rations his food and water and keeps a steady course in the direction he and Kenma saw the storms rage. He knows he probably won’t see it until he’s directly upon it, like what happened with Kenma’s island. Despite knowing this, despair starts to creep in when the fifth day arrives, and all he sees around him is ocean.

He misses Kenma. He misses his father and grandparents. Hell, at this rate he misses the loud shopkeepers in the the village that call out about their wares in obnoxious tones. It’s difficult to not think he’ll be stuck out here forever, floating in the middle of nowhere, slowly dying of heatstroke and dehydration.

He promised Kenma he would return, which was probably a stupid thing to do. He has no control over whether this will work or not. Kenma knew that. That’s why he didn’t want Kuroo to go. He should’ve listened to him. He should’ve—

Kuroo’s spiral ends abruptly, as his boat stops, caught on a reef. He glances down, noticing the water has grown clear, and hundreds of colorful fish and rocks and corals expand out as far as he can see, all the way toward land. He uses his oar to gently push his boat forward, taking care not to scrape against any sharp corners. Finally, he jumps out and tugs it to shore.

The island doesn’t seem much bigger than Kenma’s, though it’s less rocky. There aren’t any large boulders sitting around, only a smooth, sandy beach until the thick grove of trees begin. He does hear birds, here. They chatter and squawk from within the branches, as he pulls his boat high enough on the shore that he can tie it off around a tree trunk. There’s the sound of rustling, curious critters peering out at him from the underbrush before disappearing when he moves.

Does the presence of wildlife mean this isn’t the island he’s looking for? Is it a prerequisite for spirits to live on islands devoid of other life forms? Kuroo has no idea, but he ventures into the trees anyway, cupping his hands around his mouth as he calls out.

“Hello? Is anybody here?!”

Branches sway in the ocean breeze high above him, and he listens for a voice on the wind or any indication that there are spirits here.

“I’m here on behalf of Kozume Kenma! He’s an ocean spirit about a week’s sail from here. He’s been alone ever since he was placed there, and I’ve come to find a way to expand his territory to my island so he can live among other people. Hello?!”

Kuroo turns in a circle, staring up through the branches of the trees, peering into the darkness of the underbrush, searching for any sign of movement.

“It’s not right for him to be alone there,” he says, hands on his hips. “He was saved from death but at what cost? To be alone forever? That’s not a reward, that’s a punishment. He doesn’t deserve it! If you can help me, in any way, if you can help him . . . please. I’ll do anything.”

“_Anything_? What does a mortal have to give to a nature spirit?”

Kuroo spins around to face the direction the voice came from. A small figure steps out from behind the shadow of a tree, arms crossed over their bare chest. They have short brown hair and appear completely human, with bare feet and a skirt made of leaves wrapped around their waist. Kuroo can’t tell if this is an actual spirit or not, but he bows politely just in case.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says. “Just, please, let Kenma leave his island. He doesn’t know why he’s being kept there, but he’s served whatever need the spirits or gods or whatever placed in front of him to the best of his ability. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck there alone.”

“I didn’t make him an ocean spirit,” the small figure admits, arms uncrossing to hang at their sides. They heave a sigh, running a hand through their hair before turning toward the tree they just left. “LEV! GET OUT HERE!”

“But you told me to stay in the tree,” comes a second voice from high above.

Kuroo stares, as the small figure rolls their eyes. There are two of them on this island?

“And now I’m telling you to get down!”

There’s a rustle, the sound of a grunt, and then a tall, lanky figure drops from the tree, landing beside the small figure with surprising grace. As they straighten, Kuroo notes that they’re taller than him too, with wide green eyes and silvery hair. The small figure kicks at the tall one impatiently, brown eyes narrowing.

“Why did you put Kenma on that island with no instructions? I _told_ you to stay and make sure he understood what happened to him.”

The tall figure, Lev, grimaces and rubs the back of their neck. They also appear human, barefoot and wearing a skirt of leaves. When they speak, their voice whines petulantly. “I’m sorry, Morisuke! I forgot what I was supposed to tell him and so when he started waking up I panicked.”

“You weren’t even supposed to turn anyone until you’d been properly trained.” Morisuke pinches the bridge of their nose. “You’re still a new spirit yourself. That’s why I’m here. That’s why Kenma needed someone there for him, too.”

“I couldn’t just let him drown. Those human males were beating him up and then he fell . . . he was so cute and little . . . I had to save him!”

“And then abandon him.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Lev pokes their lower lip out in a pout.

Kuroo glances between the two, trying to understand what exactly is going on. “Wait, so _you’re_ the one who turned Kenma into an ocean spirit?” He points to Lev.

Lev nods, their eyes brightening. “Yeah! I didn’t think I could do it, because I’d never done it before, but I did! I took him to the island and cloaked it so he wouldn’t be found by, you know, hunters and stuff.”

Morisuke’s now massaging their temples. “I leave you alone for _one_ day,” they mutter.

“It’s been hundreds of years since Kenma drowned. You didn’t go back to check on him or fill him in on what was going on for _hundreds_ of years? Seriously?” Kuroo stares at Lev incredulously.

Lev has the decency to look sheepish, at least. “I thought I’d just make things worse. I’m not good at teaching people like Morisuke is. He’s been my mentor for centuries!”

Morisuke looks pained. “It shouldn’t be taking this long, but Lev’s a real idiot.”

Lev frowns. “Hey . . .”

Morisuke gestures to Kuroo as though to make his point.

“Anyway,” Kuroo interrupts, getting the feeling this could go on for a while. “I don’t care if you at least give Kenma a mentor, but you can’t just leave him there alone. He needs connections. He’s miserable, and his moods have been messing with the ocean enough to cause tsunamis to wreck my village every year. There has to be something you can do.”

Morisuke taps his chin thoughtfully. “How much of a territory did you give him, Lev?”

Lev hesitates. “Um. A couple kilometers?”

Morisuke blinks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lev bristles. “I didn’t really know how to put up the barriers! I’d never done it before! It was just to experiment and then it worked so I thought, well, I’d just leave it like that in case the next time didn’t work.”

Morisuke shakes his head, turning back to Kuroo. “I can expand his territory,” he says. “And find him a mentor.”

Kuroo bows, relief surging through him. “Thank you,” he says.

“How far did you say your village was from his island?” Morisuke’s watching him now, with a knowing look that sends blood rushing to Kuroo’s face.

“Um, about a three day sail. I have a map . . .” Kuroo swings his bag around, rifling through it to pull out the map. He unfurls it, laying it on the ground and crouching over it. “This is Kenma’s island, and this is Taishima, my island.” He points to each one, before glancing up at Morisuke. “That’s not too far, is it?”

Morisuke shakes his head. “We usually give ocean spirits a much larger territory than that,” he admits. “There’s a lot of ocean, and we have spirits working all across the globe. If we gave them each a territory as small as Kenma’s is now, they wouldn’t be able to work as effectively as they do.” He gives Lev a sidelong glance. “He’s come a long way since he made Kenma a spirit. If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to have him fix his mistake.”

Kuroo hesitates, not sure if he wants to put Kenma’s future in the hands of someone who screwed things up in the first place. But then, Lev _did_ save Kenma’s life. Maybe he’d earned some trust. A tiny amount of trust.

“I can fix it!” Lev exclaims eagerly, nodding his head quickly. “I can definitely fix it.” He peers down at the map, tongue sticking out from between his lips, as he draws his finger across it, noting where Kenma’s island sits and where Taishima is.

As he’s doing this, Morisuke’s gaze falls on Kuroo once more. “He’ll still be immortal,” he tells him softly. “We can’t make him human again. Once a spirit, always a spirit. His past life is gone, forever.”

Kuroo sighs softly. “I figured that might be the case,” he admits. “But . . . I don’t care. Even if I can’t be by his side for the rest of eternity, he should have the option to meet new people, form new connections. There will be others after me. He should get the chance to be with them, too.”

Morisuke grins crookedly. “Self-sacrificing idiots like you make my job a lot harder, you know. We can’t turn everyone who dies, no matter how likable they are.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “I’m not looking to be turned. I just want Kenma to be happy.”

“Okay! I think I’m ready!” Lev cries, hopping to his feet. He turns and starts to walk purposefully toward the ocean.

Morisuke stands and hurries after him. “Wait for me, idiot! I have to make sure you do it right!”

Kuroo lingers behind, staring down at the map in front of him. His chest aches. As much as he means what he told Morisuke, he can’t help but wish he _could_ spend eternity by Kenma’s side. He doesn’t want to give that up, despite knowing he doesn’t really have a choice. He can’t ask these spirits to go above and beyond for him on top of this favor to Kenma. It wouldn’t be right.

“Are you coming, strange human man?” Lev calls over his shoulder.

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Kuroo says, rolling up the map and sticking it back into his bag, before running after the other two. “My name is Kuroo, by the way. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“I’m Lev! The grumpy one is Morisuke,” Lev says with a grin, gesturing to the smaller spirit beside him.

“Were you both once human?” Kuroo asks curiously, walking beside them.

Morisuke nods. “I’m not sure who made the first spirit. The gods, probably, or they were just so enlightened they were able to make themselves one from sheer will. Either way, the first spirit made one for each part of nature they thought needed protection: water, sky, earth . . . then each of those spirits made other spirits, and so on and so forth.”

“Shouldn’t the world be saturated with spirits by now then?” Kuroo asks curiously. “Seeing as you’re all immortal.”

Morisuke gives him a sidelong look. “Just because we’re immortal, doesn’t mean we can’t die. Humans have hunted us in the past, searching for ways to harness our powers. When we’re in this form, we’re more vulnerable.” He gestures to himself. “We can be killed. So that’s why our islands are hidden.”

Kuroo wonders if Kenma knows this, if he let himself be vulnerable in front of Kuroo because he trusted him. It doesn’t seem likely. He wouldn’t have been so quick to take on a human form if he knew it could get him killed. Kuroo suddenly worries about bringing Kenma to his village. It’s not a large one, Kuroo knows most of the people living there, but that doesn’t mean Kenma will be completely safe if he decides to stay. If anyone looking to hunt spirits finds out he’s there . . .

“Do you think I’m making a mistake? Asking Kenma to live with me on my island?” he can’t help but ask, looking down at Morisuke.

“I think it’s really romantic!” Lev says unhelpfully.

Morisuke kicks Lev’s leg lightly before answering. “It might be a little naïve. But so long as he understands the risks, it’s up to him if he wants to take it. I don’t know Kenma, so I don’t know if he’s the fearful type or not, but as long as you’re honest with him about what’s at stake, I don’t think asking is a mistake. But it’ll be up to you to protect him, which means lying to your fellow humans, possibly even loved ones.”

“I’m willing to do that, for him,” Kuroo admits.

“Then everything could work out.” Morisuke nods absently, coming to a stop once they reach the water. “Is that yours?” He points to the boat.

Kuroo nods.

“Go on back to his island. We’ll take care of the barrier and make sure his mentor arrives soon.”

Kuroo takes a step toward the boat. “How will we know when the barrier’s extended?”

“He’ll know,” Morisuke says, lifting his hand in a slight wave. “It was nice meeting you, Kuroo Tetsurou. I hope you get what you want out of this.”

Kuroo bows deeply. “Thanks for your help,” he says genuinely.

“Good luck!” Lev chirps.

Kuroo can’t help but laugh. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” he asks, shaking his head.

“I don’t need luck, I have Morisuke!” Lev beams down at Morisuke in a way that seems somewhat familiar.

Kuroo watches, amused, as Morisuke turns red and gives Lev’s leg another gentle kick. “Get in the water, idiot.”

As Kuroo drags his boat back out through the coral reef and into the deeper ocean beyond, both spirits enter the water, growing in size as they do, their legs merging into tails, webs appearing between their fingers. Morisuke’s spirit form is smaller than Kenma’s, his scales a brilliant white, like pearls extending into the skin of his back and hips. Lev’s form is massive, nearly the size of two Kenmas, scales silver and green, like his hair and eyes. Kuroo stares in awe, as the two of them dive deeper beneath the waves, shuddering some to think of _anyone_ attempting to hunt such terrifyingly gigantic creatures. Those humans must be truly crazy.

His rations run low, as he sails back the way he came. He has to readjust course a few times, adding time to his journey. Thankfully, the stars are reliable and guide his way through the long nights. He wonders how Kenma will react to the news about getting a mentor after all this time. How will he take the news that he can still die? Will he still want to return to Taishima with him? Or will the presence of a mentor be enough to chase away his loneliness? Will he even need Kuroo after the mentor arrives? Kuroo offered himself as an alternative to being alone, but the situation will change. Will Kenma’s feelings for him change with it? What even _are_ his feelings? Kuroo realizes he’s never said.

These doubts are torture throughout the six days it takes to reach Kenma’s island. Kuroo tries to chase them away by making a list of everything he wants to show Kenma on Taishima, all the things he wants to experience with him. But the doubts never stay gone for long.

“You’re being an idiot, Tetsurou,” he mutters to himself, as he drags his boat up the sandbar to shore. He’s been gone almost two weeks, this time. Now isn’t the time to dwell on painful what ifs. It’s been too long since he’s seen Kenma, and he finds himself rushing forward like he did before, racing toward Kenma’s cave.

This time, he doesn’t have to descend into the darkness, because Kenma is waiting for him at the entrance. As soon as Kuroo breaks through the tree line and approaches the boulder, Kenma runs forward to meet him, long black hair streaming behind him. Kuroo can’t help but grin, and he drops his bag to the side in order to catch Kenma, as he launches himself at him.

“Hey you,” Kuroo says fondly, burying his face in Kenma’s neck, as he picks him up off his feet in a hug. Kenma wraps his arms and legs around him, clinging like a koala, and Kuroo has to stifle a laugh at how tightly he’s gripping him. 

“You were gone so long, I thought—” Kenma cuts himself off, shaking his head. He pulls back, taking Kuroo’s face in his hands, as he looks at him. “Did you find the other spirit?”

“I found two, actually,” Kuroo admits, bending just enough to pick up his bag before carrying Kenma toward his hut. “Apparently you were supposed to get a mentor after you were turned, but the spirit who turned you was really young and fucked it up.”

Kenma frowns. “Another spirit turned me?”

Kuroo nods. “Seems like you guys can do that.”

Kenma continues frowning, and Kuroo can practically see the smoke rising from his ears, as he thinks on the implications of that. Kuroo says nothing else, ducking through the doorway of his hut and setting his bag down, before sitting on his pallet of wood, moss, and leaves that serves as his bed, holding Kenma in his lap. He reaches up to brush his hair back behind his ear gently.

“They’re going to get you a mentor so you can learn about all the things you can do,” Kuroo tells him. “They’ll expand your territory, too. It wasn’t supposed to be this small in the first place.”

Kenma’s gaze snaps back up to meet his. “Taishima?”

Kuroo nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah, it’ll be big enough to include Taishima. But, um, Kenma, listen . . .” He sighs, placing his hand against Kenma’s chest. He thinks he feels something there, beneath the fabric of his hanten that Kenma still wears like it’s his, a warm spot, pulsating gently, in place of a heartbeat. It’s faint, as though far away, deep inside of him. Kuroo wonders what it is, exactly. Is it like a heart? Is that the source of Kenma’s spirit powers? Is that what the hunters look for? Do they cut open the chest of their prey and dig out that warmth? 

He shudders to think of that happening to Kenma.

“Kuro?” Kenma’s watching him closely, head tilted to the side.

“The spirits I met . . . they told me that you can still die, despite being immortal. You can be killed. Humans have apparently hunted and killed spirits in the past. That’s why your island is hidden. Theirs was too.”

Kenma blinks but otherwise his expression remains unchanged.

Kuroo grimaces. “I just . . . I feel guilty, asking you to come back to Taishima with me. You’d be safer here. You’d have a mentor, too, so you won’t be alone anymore. I think . . . maybe we should go back to our original plan. I’ll come see you every fall, and you’ll have your mentor the rest of the time to keep you company.”

Kenma frowns. “No.”

Kuroo gives him a pained look. “Kenma, I can’t be selfish. I can’t let you risk your life, just because I want to keep you close. I don’t—”

Kenma slaps his hand over Kuroo’s mouth. He looks angry now, his frown darkening into a scowl. “It’s my life, isn’t it? And you’ve already risked yours for mine. You think I wouldn’t return the favor?”

Kuroo stares at him. “I don’t want to put you in a position where you might have to,” he admits, his voice muffled behind Kenma’s hand.

“That’s _my_ choice to make, not yours.” Kenma shakes his head, dropping his hand. “I’ve already died once. I’m not afraid of death.”

That’s not exactly reassuring.

“But, Kenma—”

Kenma cuts him off again, this time with a kiss. Kuroo knows he shouldn’t let this go so easily, but Kenma presses deeper, licking into his mouth, and Kuroo feels his resolve to discuss this further melting away. He wraps his arms around Kenma’s waist, pulling him closer against his chest, as he returns the kiss, sliding his tongue against Kenma’s with a soft moan. Two weeks is a very long time to miss someone, and Kuroo’s surprised at how sharply his chest aches at the feel of having Kenma in his arms again.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before. It’s like a fire ignited in his stomach the second he laid eyes on Kenma, and it’s only grown stronger, brighter and hotter, each passing day, each passing moment. Everything Kenma does strokes the flames. His piercing gaze, his smile, his laugh, the way he let himself trust Kuroo, despite being hurt in his past. Kuroo feels _good_ around him. He wants more. He wants to grab onto that feeling and nourish it, cultivate it, see how much it can flourish.

Kenma’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and he rocks his hips forward, pressing into Kuroo as closely as he can. Kuroo’s breath catches in his throat, and he can feel heat rushing south. He groans, his hand falling to the curve of Kenma’s ass, grasping it and squeezing, shifting him forward to feel that roll of his hips against him once more. Kenma complies with the encouragement, a soft moan escaping him, as well.

He pulls from the kiss slowly, licking Kuroo’s lips before his own. He moves off him, then, and Kuroo opens his eyes, realizing it’s probably best to stop. He tries to get his thoughts into some type of order, running a shaky hand through his hair, when Kenma unties the hanten, letting it slip off his shoulders to stand naked before Kuroo.

Anything he was about to say dies instantly in his throat. Kenma’s already half-hard, the flush of his cock matching the one spreading across his shoulders and up his neck. Kuroo finds himself moving forward before he can truly think better of it, dropping to his knees in front of Kenma. He takes his hips in his hands, stroking the pale, smooth skin gently, before wrapping one hand around the base of Kenma’s shaft and directing the head into his mouth. 

He hears Kenma’s sharp intake of breath above him, as he presses his tongue against the crease below his tip, sinking further down and sucking hard around the warm skin. Slender fingers bury in his hair, stroking through the strands, and Kenma moans quietly, growing harder within Kuroo’s mouth. He gives another suck before pulling back and running his tongue around the tip, suckling it lightly before sinking back down.

While he’s never given head before, he’s had it done to him, once, back in his teen years, and he does his best to remember what felt best, the movements of the other’s lips and tongue. Kenma’s panting softly, fingers digging further into his hair, and Kuroo strokes his thumb across the jut of his hipbone, feeling his own body responding. He feels warm, much too warm, and he takes a moment to strip off his own hanten and undershirt, setting them aside, before grabbing hold of Kenma’s base and hip once more.

He bobs his head slowly, taking his time with each pull and push, pressing his tongue against the flushed, soft skin, and sucking at intervals. Kenma whimpers before stifling the sound, and Kuroo tastes something warm and salty on his tongue, as pre-cum drips onto it. It’s _very_ salty, but Kuroo doesn’t stop, but instead pulls back just enough to lap at the liquid, as it gathers and dribbles from the slit.

“Ha, ng, Kuro,” Kenma gasps, fingers tightening their grip in his hair.

Kuroo’s own erection has started to throb, begging for attention. He takes a moment to suckle some more warm liquid from Kenma, thinking it doesn’t taste too bad once he gets past the saltiness of it. Kenma’s trembling, now, a soft whine escaping when Kuroo finally leans back. He moves to stand, pressing a messy kiss against Kenma’s mouth. He wrinkles his nose but doesn’t stop him, instead wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck and kissing him back. His tongue shoves its way inside of Kuroo’s mouth, tasting himself on Kuroo’s lips and tongue with a hunger that weakens Kuroo’s knees.

He stumbles back against the pallet, sitting down hard and bringing Kenma with him, pulling him into his lap, running his hands up his warm skin from his thighs to his hips and up his back, along each knob of his spine, up into his long black hair. It tumbles down around him, as Kuroo grips it at the scalp, and Kenma groans against Kuroo’s mouth, louder than before. As he straddles Kuroo’s thighs, he reaches down between them, pushing his hand into Kuroo’s pants to take hold of his own dripping erection.

Kuroo gasps at the touch, grimacing as pleasure sparks through him. Kenma tugs down his waistband, Kuroo shifting to help, before lining their cocks up against one another. His hand doesn’t quite make it all the way around both of them, so Kuroo reaches down with his free hand, panting softly against Kenma’s lips, as he wraps his hand around Kenma’s, nudging it aside, before holding the two of them together in his palm. He moans, as he slides his hand up and then back down, both of them slick with their own pre-cum. Kenma shudders, gripping his bare shoulders, now, as he presses another kiss against Kuroo’s open mouth, and then across his cheek and jaw, down his neck. He bites at a soft spot, causing a jolt of pain to tingle down Kuroo’s spine, but it’s not enough to really _hurt_. Kenma licks at the spot, and Kuroo’s hand moves faster on them, tugging urgently, as the heat lingers and grows.

Kenma mews softly, his hands sliding down to grasp Kuroo’s biceps, now, as he presses his forehead against Kuroo’s shoulder and pants hot breaths against his skin. Kuroo leans his head against his, closing his eyes as the pleasure increases. He pulls and strokes their cocks together. It’s warm and sticky, and his other hand slides out of Kenma’s hair, running down his smooth back to his ass, cupping it once more and shifting him forward. Kenma takes the hint and begins to roll his hips, making small thrusts into Kuroo’s hand, increasing the friction between their shafts. 

Kuroo buries his face in Kenma’s hair, stifling another moan, as his body quivers. He bites back the words that gather on his tongue, knowing it’s not the right time. It’s probably too soon in general, but he can’t deny the ache in his chest, the need he feels to be closer to Kenma, closer than this. He wants to melt into him, to surround him, intertwine with him, until they can’t tell which one of them ends and the other begins. He wants to stay that way, with Kenma, forever. The desire _burns_ within him, sharper than anything he’s ever felt before. It’s stupid, perhaps, to feel this strongly for someone he only met a couple months ago, but he can’t deny it.

Kenma mumbles something against his shoulder.

“What was that?” Kuroo gasps, pulling his focus from the pleasure as best he can.

“Stay with me,” Kenma mutters, lips moving against his skin, heat pressing in like a brand.

Kuroo swallows hard. “Always,” he breathes, not caring if it makes him an idiot.

Kenma whimpers, nails digging into Kuroo’s biceps, his hips starting to jolt unevenly. Kuroo holds his hand steady against his lower back, as he quickens his pace with his other hand, feeling the tension within his own body growing. Kenma comes first with a small cry, stiffening in Kuroo’s lap, his whole body trembling, as warm liquid dumps over Kuroo’s hand. He grits his teeth, not releasing either of them, even as Kenma whines softly, biting down into Kuroo’s shoulder.

“I’m almost there,” Kuroo pants, grimacing. He feels somewhat mean for not letting Kenma go, but he wants to feel him still.

He draws every last drop from Kenma, causing him to choke back a sob, as he squirms in overstimulation.

“_Kuro_,” he begs softly, his voice thin. Kuroo knows he can pull away if he wants to, Kuroo’s not strong enough to stop him, probably, but he stays, whimpering for Kuroo’s benefit.

“Shit, fuck,” Kuroo gasps, as he comes unexpectedly. His hand stops, as the pleasure washes over him, sharp and amazing.

Kenma shoves him down on the pallet by his shoulders, staring down at him with wet eyes in a flushed face. His hair falls down around his arms, as his chest heaves. Kuroo can’t help but grin up at him.

“Sorry,” he says, wondering if it makes him a bad person that he’s really not.

Kenma bends down, kissing him hard. Kuroo returns it, clean hand moving back into Kenma’s hair, stroking the back of his head gently. Kenma presses into the kiss with almost bruising force before pulling away and sliding off of him, falling onto his back on the pallet beside Kuroo.

Kuroo takes a moment to catch his breath, staring up at the ceiling. Kenma says nothing beside him. Kuroo’s mouth feels suddenly dry, as he realizes what he’d been about to say. Glancing over at Kenma, he bites his lip, wondering if he should now.

Before he can decide the best course of action, Kenma sits straight up, eyes wide. Slowly, Kuroo props himself up on his elbows.

“What is it?” he asks softly.

“I can see it,” Kenma breathes, staring off into thin air. “Your island. Your village. It’s in my territory.”

Kuroo sits up all the way, remembering how his argument against Kenma coming home with him was interrupted earlier. “Kenma, I meant what I said before. I think it’s better for you to stay here.”

Kenma turns to look at him, eyes blazing. “You _just_ promised you’d stay with me,” he reminds him flatly.

Kuroo grimaces. “Yeah, I know, but . . . words said in the middle of sex . . .”

“Don’t count? Were you lying?”

Kuroo looks back at Kenma helplessly. “No,” he admits after a moment, realizing he can’t bring himself to lie, not to Kenma. “No, I wasn’t.”

Kenma nods, as though he expected as much. “Pack your things, then. We’re leaving.”

He stands, grabbing the hanten he’s worn since Kuroo first arrived and pulling it on. He ties it off, as Kuroo stands and readjusts his pants, wiping his hand clean on the moss of his pallet. “Don’t you think you should wait for your mentor to get here?”

“He’s already here,” Kenma says, tossing Kuroo’s hanten and undershirt at him. “He’s waiting for us outside.”

Kuroo feels his cheeks warm further than they are already. He pulls on the shirt and slips his arms into the hanten, tying it off. “Uh, you don’t think he . . . heard all that, do you?”

Kenma steps through the doorway without answering, apparently not embarrassed at all by the prospect. Kuroo exhales slowly before following.

Sure enough, only a few meters away sits a young man, cross-legged on the ground. His small eyebrows raise, as he takes in their rumpled states, but he says nothing, as he unfolds and stands. He has short black hair and dark eyes, and he bows slightly as Kenma approaches.

“I’m Shouhei. Your mentor.”

“I’m going to live with Kuro on Taishima,” Kenma states. “Will that be an issue?”

Shouhei blinks slowly, glancing between the two. He shrugs, then. “I can teach you there just as well as here. You can’t let the other humans know what you are, though.”

“I know,” Kenma says.

Kuroo packs up the remaining rice and books and clothes, swinging the bag over his back, as he glances between the two. “So . . . I guess we’re going, then?”

Kenma steps back over to him, taking his hand. “Oh,” he says, turning back to Shouhei. “I want to learn how to make spirits. I’m going to turn this one when he dies.” He points to Kuroo with his free hand.

Kuroo sputters. “Uh, heh, what now? Huh?”

Kenma looks up at him, narrowing his eyes. “You said you’d stay with me always. You think I’m going to let you die and break that promise?”

Kuroo stares at him. “You . . . really want me around for that long?”

Kenma gives him a look that says he thinks Kuroo might be stupid after all. All he says, though, is a simple: “yes.”

Kuroo doesn’t know what to say to that, but he can see a future suddenly opening up before him, full of possibilities he never considered before, never let himself hope to consider.

Shouhei smirks. “You’re unconventional. I like that,” he says with a nod, then gestures for them to walk on ahead.

As they make their way to the beach, Kuroo looks down at Kenma walking beside him, his hand still clasped in his. He gives it a firm squeeze.

“I think I love you,” he says, deciding to just admit to it, since it seems Kenma’s decided he’s going to keep him forever.

“Well, that makes things a lot easier,” Kenma states lightly, like he expected it.

Kuroo can’t help but grin. “Does that mean you love me, too?”

Kenma hums noncommittally. He releases Kuroo’s hand in order to grab hold of the boat, pushing it toward the water with a strength his size belies. Kuroo steps up beside him to help anyway, glancing over at him.

“What do you think?” Kenma says finally, once the boat hits the water, and he climbs up inside. Shouhei follows suit, Kuroo getting in last.

He sets his bag down at the bottom of the boat, unfurling the sail before taking the seat across from Kenma, hand on the rudder.

“I think, you’re really stubborn and don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, another smile tugging his lips.

Kenma nods. “So don’t ask stupid questions,” he says, before turning his face to look north, where Taishima lies a mere three days ahead.

Kuroo’s heart swells in his chest, and he laughs, as the ocean rises beneath the boat and pushes them forward, towards home.

**Author's Note:**

> https://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
